


Aftermath

by writer_roha



Series: Summer Rain [2]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, really no plot whatsoever just fluff, technically college au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_roha/pseuds/writer_roha
Summary: A year of smooth sailing proves that maybe some things can last.A sequel of Summer Rain.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> this honestly took..so dam long im sorry i wasn't sure where to end it but i hope you like it!! takes place about a year after the ending of summer raining.

"I'm outside, come let me in," Sanha's warm voice came through the receiver.

You had just woke up ten minutes prior to your boyfriend's impromptu call, so you barely had time to wash up before Sanha's obnoxious rhythmic knocking came upon your apartment door. You hung up the call and yelled, "Coming!" When you opened the door, you felt a bit underdressed; clad in one of Sanha's stolen shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts. Sanha was looking stunning from head to toe with a pair of black jeans and a half tucked in button up. Behind your boyfriend was a suitcase. "What's that for?" you asked, pointing to his luggage.

"No hello? No greeting kiss?" Sanha gasped sarcastically. He grabbed your face in his hands as he always did, and planted a chaste kiss on your lips before making his way inside, bag in tow. "I seriously hope you don't have thanksgiving plans because I'm only realizing now that it was probably not the best romantic surprise for me to basically crash at your place for a week with no warning," Sanha explained.

"Yeah, should've thought that one through," you snorted, "Lucky for you, my schedules completely wide open, and I'm more than happy to spend the time with you."

"Thank goodness," he sighed, flopping down on your couch. You sat down beside him and leaned easily into his embrace. "Missed you," Sanha muttered, "A lot."

"Missed you too," you pecked his jawline and let yourself take in his presence; his scent, his warmth, and the feel of his body against your own. Long distance had been working so far, if your year of smooth sailing was anything to go by. Sanha was right in the end; the move along with the first few months that followed was tough and took some adjusting, but your love for each other never once ebbed with the extra distance. Missing your boyfriend was a constant, but never once had your eyes strayed to another for love. "What's with the fancy outfit?" you asked after a moment of basking.

"No reason, just want to look nice for you," Sanha hummed, "I'm loving your outfit, by the way. I was kinda wondering where that shirt went."

"What, you want it back?"

>>

After a bit, the two of you went to your room and began to shelve the items Sanha had packed with him into his pre-designated drawer that already contained his things from past visits. "So are you thinking a lazy week or one with lots of dates and stuff?" Sanha asked over his shoulder.

"Up to you," you replied from your spot on the bed. You were indifferent, really. What you spent your time doing wasn't really an issue; you were just glad that your breaks lined up nicely.

"Then I'm feeling lazy," he nodded as he shut the drawer and stored his suitcase in your closet. "I just want to be with you." He was like a mind reader. "Mind if we just nap for a bit?" Sanha asked as he crawled under the covers beside you. Psychic.

"I'd love that," you hummed, curling into his chest. Drifting off was always easy when you were chest to chest with your favourite person. It was sound and warm, the way you loved it.

You awoke to the feeling of a finger dragging on your face. "What are you doing?" you asked, not opening your eyes.

"Sorry," came Sanha's sheepish reply, "Just tracing your freckles, I didn't mean to wake you." The soft pads of his fingers ran along your brows and down the bridge of your nose, then stopped at your cupid's bow where they traced your lips slowly.

"Stop, it's ticklish," you whined fussily.

"Sorry," he repeated, and his fingers retreated, "I just miss you, and I don't want to forget what you feel like."

"Okay, now I just feel bad," you chuckled, "Do what you want."

"It's okay, I got my fill," he hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I have a question though."

"Which is?"

"Do you remember in senior year when you cried a lot?" he began.

"Yeah?" you buried your face in the crook of his neck to hide your embarrassment. How like him to bring this up now.

"Was that because of the long distance thing? Were you worried about it that far back?"

"Of course. Weren't you?" you mumbled.

"I thought about it, yeah," he shrugged, "I guess I'm not a little worry-wart like you."

"You asked me a question you already knew the answer to just so you could call me a worry-wart?" you chided, lifting your head to look your boyfriend in the eye.

"Just making small talk," he giggled, "You know, we've been together for almost five years now?"

"Yeah, I can count," you grinned.

"That makes one of us," he joked, "Isn't that crazy though? We could like- get married and stuff."

"You're joking right?"

"Only partly," Sanha shrugged, "I can wait, we have time."

>>

"Can I braid your hair later?" Sanha asked over breakfast. The two of you had muffins and scrambled eggs together.

You swallowed your current mouthful down, "Sure you can, but why the sudden urge?"

"My friend taught me how to french braid at a party, and I can't stop thinking about how you'd look in a french braid," Sanha confessed shyly, fiddling with the rim of his coffee mug.

"So instead of beer pong, you learn how to braid at parties? What is music school teaching you?" you snorted.

"I suck at beer pong, and braiding is more fun anyway," Sanha huffed.

"Alright, well you can later," you conceded, feeding him a spoonful of eggs.

After breakfast, you turned on some cartoons and let Sanha get to work on your hair. "You know," Sanha laughed airily as he sectioned off your hair, "Half of my friends think you're a fabricated girlfriend. Even though I showed them pictures of us, they think I'm some photoshop god with too much time on my hands."

"Seriously?" you choked, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Yeah, they think you're too pretty," he said smugly.

"Don't lie," you rolled your eyes.

Sanha pulled up his phone, and sure enough, his groupchat was full of Sanha's friends asking where Sanha got the original pictures of you to photoshop. You couldn't help but giggle. "Stop moving, I'm tryna braid here," Sanha said sternly.

The braid was actually nicer than you had expected. You commended whoever taught him the skill. "Gosh you're pretty," Sanha gushed as he examined his work.

"Shut up, you're too nice for your own good," you scolded, but kissed his cheek in thanks anyway.

"If you kiss me to shut me up then I will," he beamed.

So you did.

Your cheeks were tinged pink as you fought a bit to catch your breath after you pulled away. You missed the feel of his lips against your own and you couldn't seem to get enough.

"So your hair will be curly when you take the braid out after a while?" Sanha asked out of the blue, panting a bit. You were lying on top of him on the couch, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest under you.

"Yes, after a while," you answered.

"Can't wait."

Sanha was fascinated with the messy curls in your hair once you slipped the braid out well into the evening.

>>

The space beside you was empty when you woke up in the middle of the night. A soft glow was cast on the hallway floor from the kitchen, so you groggily followed it, hoping to find your boyfriend. "Can't sleep?" you asked quietly, observing him sitting on the floor next the the sliding glass door that led to your balcony.

"Oh," he startled in his spot, but his features immediately softened as his eyes fell on you, "Yeah, I guess. Sorry to wake you."

"That's okay," you sat across from him and let your legs brush against his, "What's on your mind, pumpkin?"

"Nothing important," he shrugged.

"Kinda looks important," you retorted.

"Just," he sighed, "Just, I see what you meant back in high school. This is hard. This doesn't mean I wanna break up or anything and I don't love you any less- it doesn't. But it's so hard. Every moment I'm not with you, everything feels meaningless and I just hurt all over. Sometimes I wish things were easier and that we could just live together, but I know these are our dreams that we're following. But even these past few days, just touching you and having you near makes me dread going back. I just wish I could have you all the time. I know I act nonchalant and stuff but every moment with you is everything to me and I end up missing you so much more after I leave."

"Oh," you blurted.

"I know, it's silly," Sanha's head hung low.

"No, not at all!" you assured, "I know how you feel; I miss you always. But you know what always helps when I feel particularly down?"

Sanha's eyes raised a bit in intrigue, "What?"

"I like to think about the future- with you. You'll be my cool musician husband that wakes me up in the morning with a song you're working on that's just for me. And we'll eat breakfast together and share kisses over fresh fruit. And we'd go our separate ways for work and I'd hear a piece of your's on the radio and I'll smile knowing you wrote it at 2am beside me. And when I'd get home, you'd be there- always there."

"Husband?" Sanha marveled, always the one with selective hearing.

"Did you hear anything else out of what I said? I'm trying to help you here." you scolded.

"Sorry," he flushed, "That does help. Thank you. I didn't want to ruin thanksgiving for us, so I tried to keep it in; so much for that though." Sanha leaned onto the glass.

"It's not ruined, you're still here, aren't you?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Do you want to go back to bed, or do you wanna stay a bit longer?" you took his hand into your's and caressed his fingers.

"Bed," Sanha groaned as he began to stand up, pulling you upwards with him.

>>

"Feeling better?" you asked, pushing his hair up from his forehead. It was late morning, leaning into noon, but the two of you were much too tired to get up.

"Yeah," Sanha wiggled out of your grasp and burrowed into the covers in embarrassment.

"Come back," you demanded, patting the mound of blankets beside you, "It wasn't that bad."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be the crybaby and I'm supposed to be the cool doting boyfriend," he whined.

"Okay, sure," you rolled your eyes, "It's thanksgiving today and I'm too lazy to cook, how do you feel about takeout later?"

"I feel great about takeout later," his head poked out from the blankets, "Now what's a guy gotta do to get a good morning kiss around these parts?"

"You gotta get up and brush your teeth, that's what," you said, pushing yourself off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom. With a bit of fumbling, Sanha flopped out of bed after you, staggering into the bathroom in boxers and a tee, chestnut hair mussed but beautiful.

It always amused you to see the reflection of you and Sanha in the bathroom mirror. He stood behind you in the cramped space, almost a full head taller than you. It was ridiculous.

After brushing, spitting, rinsing, then washing his face, Sanha was finished. "Can I get a kiss now?" he asked as he patted his face dry on a towel.

"Can't see why not," you shrugged, turning to face him to receive your morning dose of love.

>>

"We've spent a few days in, so I'm kinda feeling a little obligated to go outside and maybe get some sun," Sanha pondered at two o'clock. The two of you were trying to pass time over a game of Uno, but it wasn't much fun with only two people.

"Go out? In this economy?" you whined, sitting up from your spot on the floor.

"Yes, you gremlin," your boyfriend rolled his eyes and threw his cards down on the coffee table. He had a +4 card, so maybe it was for the best that he was proposing to do something else.

"Fine, let me get dressed first," you muttered, shuffling back to your room. Sanha was weird and had gotten dressed earlier in the day.

"You look cute enough already!" he called after you, and you rolled your eyes after sliding a sweater over your head. In high school, the sweater had belonged to Sanha, but that was eons ago and it had since became your own.

When you stepped out into the living room, Sanha was in the kitchen with a glass of water, but turned to face you after he heard you enter the room. "You're really not gonna give that back, are you?" he tugged at the bottom of your sweater nonchalantly.

"Nope," you shrugged, "I thought we're going out?"

"We are," he affirmed, placing his empty cup into the sink, "Just taking a moment to look at you, that's all." Sanha's answer was nonchalant, like he didn't know the effect of his words on your heart; he probably didn't.

"Oh," you turned away to slip your shoes on and hide the pink of your cheeks. "You know what I look like," you teased.

"I'm not sure about that, let me see you again so we can make sure," Sanha spun you around to look at him and there was nowhere for you to hide the blush or the pounding of your heart. Yeah, he could still do that. "Still pretty," he said after a moment.

>>

"What's good around here?" Sanha asked, looking every which way at the unfamiliar surroundings of the towering buildings encasing the sidewalks. He had visited your city many times, but he was terrible at directions and had admitted to you after a few months of being apart that he was too busy looking at you to learn what was where in your city. His words, not your's.

"Well it's still too soon for dinner, but we could get a snack if you want. There's a nice pastry shop a few blocks away and they make good chocolate cake,” you proposed, swinging his and your hands back and forth as you walked.

“Goodness, cake before dinner?” Sanha tried his best to look appalled, but you could see the growing excitement blossoming on his face at the mention of sweets, “Well if you insist!”

Despite his response, your boyfriend did his best to hurry you along so you could arrive at the cake shop faster. 

Once inside, you ordered two slices of the chocolate cake and berries that you always got along with two caramel lattes. You passed Sanha's food over to him and began to eat your own slice. After a minute, you peered up at him to see how he was liking it, but you were surprised to see that he hadn't touched his food yet. Instead, his hands were tucked under his thighs, palms down, and he was looking at you with an easy gaze. “What?” you placed your fork onto the pretty china, “Is there something on my face?”

“Ah, no,” Sanha shook himself out of his dream-like stupor, “Just looking at you, that's all.” A fond smile graced his face and he picked up his fork to begin eating.

“It's not like I'm going anywhere,” you huffed in an attempt to calm your heart. It seemed that all Sanha did this week was take a moment to look at you and take you in and it all it did was make your heart race even more than the last time he'd do it. You didn't know where the sudden intrigue was coming from.

“I know, but I'm getting sentimental and I've realized I don't get to do this with you that often, so I should savour it,” he shrugged, eating a piece of the cake. Instantly, his face lit up as the taste— you knew he'd like it.

“Jeez, what are you, fifty?” you teased.

“Nope, just in love,” he said simply. The words came out as easily as any other phrase could've come out and in that moment it seemed almost impossible that he had once been a bumbling fool that knew nothing of expressing his affections. It was times like these that made you completely sure that you'd last forever. You were just too paranoid in your youth to see that in the past, but now you were sure as the sun. 

You didn't want to ever let something like this go; the way he made you feel and how easy he made it for you to smile. The humming warmth in your heart was something you never wished to be without and no one could bring it about like Sanha could. He was everything and he'd proved himself to be time and time again. Not all things lasted forever, but this would. And that would be no surprise to anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are welcome uwu


End file.
